The Legend of Zelda: In His Shadow
by CruciformSpark7
Summary: During Hyrule's bloody and infamous Unification War, a young family is torn apart. Their two sons are left separated, neither knowing the other exists. Link grew up surrounded by the mystery and magic of Kokiri Forest; Dark has grown up haunted by the memories of his parents' death and the man who murdered them: Ganondorf. An alternate re-telling of the story of Ocarina of Time.
1. Prologue

Sweet, encompassing coolness filled the hall; a welcome contrast to the burning world outside the temple. Impossibly, it was undamaged by the fires just outside its stone walls, resisting all the world's evils.

The heavy door closing behind him, he dropped to his knees, the pain blinding. He didn't have much time, but he couldn't stop his lungs from taking great heaving breaths, or his body from shaking.

He knew the Demon would make chase soon, after it discovered what had been done to its pet. Glancing down at his spoils from his encounter with the beast, he felt a small satisfaction. A large chunk of its deep blue, armor-like hide and its twin, curving tusks had scattered to the floor. Suitable trophies, he thought.

Struggling upwards with great difficulty, he placed gauntleted hands on his own head, gripping his helmet. He lifted it free, tossing it to the ground with the other objects. The clanging sound of it landing echoed in the hall as he stepped forward. Movement was difficult; the heavy armor saw to that. He was unused to it.

Reaching the antechamber after several long moments, he spotted the shrine: a cylindrical glass case, opaque so that it shielded its contents from viewers, standing tall on a raised platform. Climbing the stairs was agony in every step. Left behind was evidence of his injuries—droplets of blood fell and stained each step.

At his approach, the opaque shield shimmered, its surface coming to life as if struck by light. The walls around him simply vanished as if they were never there. Alarm coursed through his battle-hardened body at the sight of the fires. The destructive element had already consumed most of the forest. Only the clearing where he stood was untouched, still green and alive.

The cylinder was emitting a faint, silvery light. It shone on his breastplate, reflecting the image of the sun emblazoned there. The golden armor was redder now, slick with blood and scratched from his battles. On his chest the sun image glowed with new life, renewing his strength. For what he had to do, he would need it.

Ripping off his gauntlets, he reached out and brushed his forefinger over the opaque surface. It shivered and dissolved before his eyes, and then he saw it, dark red and pulsating feebly. The heart of the world.

There was no time left. The Demon's cries could be heard, far off in the chaos. It knew it had lost.

Quickly, he unsheathed the sword at his hip, raising it high. With a roar, he brought it down, striking the crystal.

It shattered.

He didn't notice the high-pitched ringing in his ears until he opened his eyes again. Seeing only whiteness, he was certain he had gone blind. Shards of the crystal must have pierced his eyes.

"The Demon has been Sealed. You have done well, fierce warrior."

He recognized that voice. "Goddess of Time," he said, his voice betraying his pain, his grief.

A face appeared in his vision; so he was not blind after all. "Do not feel guilt over your actions. You performed the act I requested of you," she said.

The face above him came into focus. Hers was the most beautiful face he had ever laid his eyes on. The face of divinity.

"But…the world will come to an end."

"Yes."

"What happens now?" he asked quietly. Looking down, he saw the emblem on his chest, its gold image dull. He wondered then if he would lay eyes on the sun again.

She reached out for him, keeping his consciousness focused on her lovely face, even as he felt the heavy weight of his body be left behind.

"The world is reborn."


	2. Bonus Chapter: The Beginning

_Hyrule Castle_

**oooooooooo**

Hyrule was in a state of unease. The future of the kingdom looked bleak. The people had begun to lose hope. Even now, the forces that would destroy Hyrule marched upon her gates, ready to strike the final blow.

The King sat alone in his office, his head lowered, his eyes downcast. Outside, it rained. He had failed. He had failed his people. He had failed Hyrule. The war was not over. His army was faltering; their spirits had been stripped. The Gerudo forces approached his city, a dark shadow on the horizon.

The King raised his head; a slow, almost painful motion for him. His eyes were bloodshot, encircled by the darkness of insomnia. His white, withered hands shook like that of a man twice his age. Indeed, he did not look himself. He had aged decades in a single year.

Today should have been a day of celebration, but he could not find it in his heart to do so. How could he, when everything had crumbled so rapidly around him? His enemies grew stronger, thanks to his own foolish actions. His allies were dwindling. The Zoras had ignored his plight, just as he had failed to acknowledge them. The Sheikah had been slaughtered. His own doing. And for what? Nothing.

He stared out of the castle window, an empty man.

There was a quiet knock at the door, barely heard over the pounding of the rain outside. "Your Majesty?" a voice inquired.

The King struggled to meet the gaze of his servant. The weight of the crown upon his head suddenly seemed much too heavy for him. "Yes?" he rasped, his voice hoarse.

"It's…the Queen, my lord." The servant regarded his king with sadness.

Under normal circumstances, the King would be surprised that his attendant would dare to meet his gaze. Tonight, however, was not normal circumstances. The King blinked, unsure if the implication was what he suspected.

"The Queen?" He did not recognize the man's voice that came from his own lips. This man sounded tortured; defeated. It could not be him.

The manservant bowed his head in sympathy. "Come quickly, my lord.

**~oOo~**

Naron paced anxiously through the small sitting room, resisting the urge to run a hand through his dark hair. A habit he did when he was nervous. A cry of pain sounded through the small house, echoing in the too-small spaces. His heart lurched at the sound. He couldn't bear it any longer.

The soldier rushed up the narrow wooden stairs, taking them two at a time. At the top he turned the corner, reaching for the handle of the closed door just in front of him. It suddenly opened, causing him to take a step back. A matronly woman emerged, shutting it quickly behind her.

"She is fine," the midwife assured him, shoving Naron away from the door. "Do not make things harder on her."

"She needs me," Naron protested, trying to move past her.

The midwife shook her head. "It is almost time. Excuse me." She brushed past him, carrying an empty basket to the hall closet. She reached inside for some clean linen, filling the basket, before re-entering the room.

The door clicked shut as another scream sounded from inside. Naron winced. He leaned back against the wall next to the door, trying to ignore her cries of pain. Slowly his body slid to the floor and he rested his elbows on his knees, breathing steadily to calm himself.

A door further down the hall opened quietly. Light footsteps approached the soldier and he looked up as a little voice said, "Da?"

Naron raised his head, opening his arms wide. The little boy rushed into them. "It's all right," he assured his son, smoothing his dark hair back.

The boy looked into his father's eyes anxiously. His dark blue eyes glanced at the closed door several times. "Mama?" he asked softly.

The father forced a smile onto his face. "Mama will be okay," he soothed, mussing up the boy's black hair. The toddler resembled his father a great deal, even at this young age. His blue eyes were his mother's, though.

Another heart-wrenching cry shook the father and son. It was more insistent this time. The door opened and the midwife appeared, anxiously ushering them inside. Naron wasted no time. He scooped his son into his arms, rushing to his wife's bedside.

He set the boy into a nearby chair. He curled up without a sound, understanding in the way children do when it is time to behave. Naron sat on the bed next to her, raising her hand to his mouth to kiss it. The bed was small, but sturdy. He suddenly felt ashamed that all he had been able to provide for her comfort was this simple bed. As if confirming his thoughts, she shifted her weight.

"Are you comfortable, Shaiya?" he asked anxiously, moving to adjust the pillows behind her head.

She shook her head sternly. "I'm fine, Naron," she replied. "Do not think you have failed me in some way, simply because we are not wealthy." At his shocked look, she managed a breathless laugh. "You forget, my dear. I can read your mind."

"Ever since we first met," he agreed with a laugh.

"Do you remember that day?" she asked, closing her eyes. Her face pinched as pain took over.

"Like it was yesterday," he replied, smoothing her damp hair back from her forehead. His hand tenderly brushed her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, sighing.

"Tell me," she requested.

He managed a smile before sitting back down. Leaning forward, he held her limp hand in his. When the pain came, her fingers squeezed weakly. As memories of that day filled his mind's eye, he began to recount his version of events.

**ooooooooo**

_Excitement was paramount in the crowd. So potent was the joy of the people that it overshadowed all other emotion. All the fear, anxiety, hate and grief the war had brought was forgotten on the hot summer afternoon. The citizens had gathered to witness the crowning of a new king; a man who would end the war that had ravaged the land of Hyrule for too long._

_The ceremony was taking place in one of the vast outdoor courtyards of Hyrule castle. The people of Castle Town and those in the surrounding areas had been invited to witness the coronation. They filled any open space, sitting on the grassy areas, leaning against trees or sitting on the low stone walls. _

_Of course, the noble families of Hyrule were seated at privileged spots nearest the castle entrance. The Prince stood in his royal garb at the top of the stone steps, in front of the massive double doors. With him were several attendants and councillors, ready to begin the ceremony. Behind him stood an array of royal guards, as well as a small group surrounding a young woman dressed in a fine gown and jewels; she was the Prince's wife and future queen._

_Soldiers surrounded every corner and walkway of the courtyard, keeping everything in check. These were lower ranking soldiers, not the personal guards of the royal family. A group of young soldiers lounged against the western wall, taking in the sight._

"_I heard a rumor that the Princess is pregnant already," one of the soldiers commented, peering over the heads of the crowd at the finely dressed young woman._

"_There's no way to tell from this distance," Naron replied, his height a definite advantage as he surveyed the crowd of townspeople._

_The first soldier turned to his tall friend. "He won't have the throne for long if his wife bears him a girl," he said, causing the other soldiers to laugh._

_The line of succession always went to the firstborn girl, even if she had older brothers. Of course, the Prince was an only child, and after the passing of his mother, the late Queen, he had been next in line for the throne. Since his wife had married into the royal family, she could not rule alone if her husband died; in that case her firstborn daughter would take the throne._

"_It will most likely be a girl," Naron said over the laughter of his friends. "The goddesses have smiled upon us today."_

"_They certainly have," said the first soldier, brushing his sandy blonde hair out of his face. "Let's go out and celebrate tonight. What do you say, lads?"_

_The men roared with approval. As they continued to gossip amongst themselves, the tall young man kept his post, watching the crowd for any scuffles. From the corner of his eye he noticed a group of young noblewomen approaching from the west pathway._

"_Speaking of goddesses…" he murmured, gesturing to his fellow soldiers. _

_He quickly dusted off his uniform and combed his fingers through his untidy black hair. Dark hair was a rarity in Hyrule. Most Hylians had blonde hair and blue or green eyes. Shades of brown and red were also common; black hair was a recessive trait. His darkly handsome looks and the combination of light blue eyes and midnight dark hair had gotten him noticed before. He prayed it came through this time._

_The soldiers grouped together on the edge of the stone pathway, giving the young noblewomen their most charming smiles. The ladies giggled and smiled flirtatiously as they passed the young soldiers. Their dresses created a flurry of colors as they passed by, their lustrous hair and jewelry sparkling in the sunlight. _

_The dark-haired solider found his interest drawn to one girl in particular. His pale blue eyes locked onto hers; deep and dark as sapphires. Her young, pretty face was lit up by her exquisite smile. Her golden hair fell in soft curls around her beautiful face, like soft golden clouds surrounding a bright sun._

_The girl returned his smile, neither one able to look away. Finally, their eye contact was broken as her friends ushered her forward. She looked back for the handsome, dark-haired soldier. She blushed when she realized he was still staring after her, mouth open in awe. One gloved hand reached to push her hair behind one pointed ear. There was a wink of light as something sparkly dropped from her hair into the grass._

_The young soldier jumped forward, searching the grass for whatever the beautiful girl had dropped. She was taking her place next to the steps now, unaware that she had dropped something. The soldier ignored the shouts from his companions, retrieving from the grass the tiny sapphire earring the noblewoman had dropped. The gem was priceless; it would have garnered a price that was more than twice his salary. _

_He rushed towards the nobility's seats. He slipped easily through the crowd, stopping behind the golden-haired woman's seat. Slowly, he reached out a hand to place on her shoulder._

"_Milady," he whispered when she startled._

_He gently reached for one delicate, white gloved hand. Inside he placed the sapphire earring, closing her fingers around it._

"_You dropped this," he murmured, moving to turn away._

_She clenched her hand around his, keeping him at her side. "Your name?" she asked softly._

_He grinned. "Naron."_

_She smiled back. "Shaiya."_

**oooooooo**

He being a lowly soldier, her family had not approved of their relationship. They had eloped. Five blissful years had passed since their marriage, and they now lived in this small house in the quiet village of Tellura, just a few miles north of Kakariko. It was little more than a year later that Shaiya gave birth to their first son.

Tonight would be the birth of their second. Another boy.

"Tonight is a lucky one," the midwife murmured.

She was the village's only healer, and she was well versed in magic. The superstitious residents often asked her for advice they believed she could garner from the movement of the constellations or the cycles of the moon. It was early spring, and the moon was full. According to the magic woman, it was one of the best times for a child to be born. Any child born on this day would be special.

"Lucky?" he asked, skeptical. He had never been one to believe silly superstition.

The old woman nodded, wiping his wife's brow with a cool, wet cloth. "Yes. After so many unfortunate miscarriages, the Queen is finally giving birth to a healthy daughter."

He raised a brow. "How can you possibly know that? There has been no news from the castle of any kind in weeks."

The midwife chuckled. "The gods are amongst us, tonight. The new Princess and your son will be born tonight. Children of destiny. Mark my words."

His attention was diverted as Shaiya began to cry out again. She squeezed his hand in her own tiny, slender white one. The midwife was right, their second child was about to be born.

Hours later, she lay in their bed, resting. She breathed normally now, and for that, he thanked the gods. Kane was asleep in a chair next to his mother's bed. Naron ruffled his hair fondly, trying not to wake him.

The old midwife was busy with his newborn son, murmuring prayers as she swaddled the squalling infant. She turned to face him, holding the baby out to him. He took him carefully, holding him close to his chest as he watched his family sleeping. He was so tired. He'd been up all night worrying since she had gone into labor.

"What will you name him?" the midwife asked.

He smiled down at the newborn. He and Shaiya had had a name picked out ever since they'd discovered she was pregnant again.

"His name is Link."

**~oOo~**

Miles away, the King of Hyrule watched as his newborn daughter, Princess Zelda V, was brought over and placed gently in his arms. He held the infant in the crook of one arm, swaying her to stop her cries. With the other he softly reached over and lifted the Queen's hand in his. It was cool and fragile. A tear slipped down his chin, staining the pure white blanket surrounding the monarch. With a shaking hand, the King reached up to his beloved's face, closing her eyes for the final time.

A servant came to take the child from him as he knelt next to the Queen's bedside. She had not survived the trials of childbirth. He prayed fervently to the goddesses as he held her hand in his, tears silently leaking onto the bed.

He prayed for the power to lead Hyrule back into peace and prosperity. He prayed for the courage to overcome the grief of losing his beloved wife. And finally, he prayed for the wisdom he would need to raise his newborn, precious daughter.


	3. Chapter 1: A Hero Comes Home

Chapter One: A Hero Comes Home

_Hamlet of Tellura, northeast of Kakariko Village_

Shaiya straightened, wiping her brow in the summer heat. She leaned wearily against the side of the house, breathing heavily. Since her husband had been away, it had fallen to her to maintain the house, the garden, the livestock…and the children. She heard a high-pitched squeal and smiled fondly at her two sons, who were busy playing in the yard.

Her eldest son was nearly four now. Her youngest had turned a year old that spring. The infant was sitting on a blanket, watching his brother with curiosity, giggling occasionally. The dark-haired boy was preoccupied firing a slingshot at some squirrels in a nearby tree.

Shaiya knelt down and lifted the large bucket of water, having just refilled it at the pump. She carried it carefully inside and into the kitchen, setting it beside the sink. Her chore complete, she hurried outside, wiping her hands on her apron. She stopped when she noticed him doing something peculiar. His slingshot was held limply in his left hand, his face turned upwards. His lips were moving rapidly, pausing for brief moments. As if he was talking to thin air.

"Sweetheart?" she called.

He perked up. "Mama?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. His dark hair fell carelessly in his eyes.

Next to him, the baby clapped his hands together, grinning broadly. Shaiya hurried over to her elder son. "Who are you talking to, darling?"

He grinned, as if he was in on some secret joke. "Big brother," he said simply.

Shaiya's eyes widened in surprise. "Big brother? Who is that?"

The boy laughed. "He tells me stuff. Like how to use this!" he held up the slingshot enthusiastically.

"Where is big brother?" Shaiya asked, playing along, thinking her son had invented an imaginary friend to play with. The village they lived in didn't have many young children his age.

"Right there," he said, as if it was obvious. "Can't mama see him?"

Shaiya shook her head with mock sadness. "No, darling. Why don't you tell mama what big brother looks like?"

The boy seemed put out that his mother was unable to see his friend. "He's really tall," he started, jumping up to try and indicate just how tall. "Like, really tall! And he has silver-white hair, and he's got really, really light blue eyes."

Shaiya laughed. "Is that so?"

The boy gave her an exasperated look; a most peculiar expression for a four-year-old. He didn't think the existence of his imaginary friend was as much of a game as she did. He was about to say something more about big brother when his little brother piped up, giggling excitedly.

"Dad!" the older boy squealed excitedly, bouncing up and down and stretching his tiny hands outwards.

Shaiya's gaze snapped up in time to see a lone figure making his way towards the house. He was coming up the main road, and had nearly reached the little stone bridge that connected the two sides of the river. The village was small, and already their neighbours were peeking out to see who the new arrival was. Shaiya stood, feeling tears leak out of her eyes as she took in the sight of the man.

He wore a long, dusty traveling cloak over his armor. A sword had been strapped to his hip, and he carried a rucksack on his back. His arm was in a sling, and he looked tired, but alive. Shaiya didn't even realize she had begun running to meet him on the path until she collided into his arms. He held her close, stroking his free arm through her golden hair, revelling in her familiar scent. He breathed her in, whispering her name over and over. She clung to him, thanking the gods he was alive and back in her arms.

Stooping down, he lifted her, somewhat awkwardly because of his arm, and carried her back to the yard. He released her as his young son came barrelling into his arms. Naron laughed, lifting the boy under his arms and swinging him above his head like an airplane. The child whooped with excitement as his father set him down to pick up the infant that was pleading for attention. He held the baby, in the crook of his good arm as Shaiya cuddled close to his side. She put one arm around their other boy as he hugged her skirt tightly.

The baby smiled, giggling happily. Naron smiled down at his family. "I'm home now," he said quietly, pressing a kiss to the delicate forehead. "I'm home."

**~oOo~**

The dark-haired boy lay on his stomach in the long grass. He'd been practicing moving around with stealth. His breathing was quieter than a whisper, and he barely brushed the tall stalks around him as he moved steadily forward. The fields surrounding his home were perfect for this kind of thing. He heard the unmistakeable squawking of a pheasant nearby. His small fist clenched around the worn wooden slingshot; a gift from his father. He couldn't wait to see the look on his dad's face when he brought home dinner.

"To your left a little."

He looked up at his big brother. He was a giant compared to the child; approaching seven feet tall. He knelt in the grass, not even needing to put in an effort to remain unseen. He was invisible to everyone except the boy. He felt better with Big Brother there; safer. At first he'd thought he was a bit weird, with his long, white hair and icy blue eyes. But he'd gotten used to it.

The pheasant shuffled out of its hiding place and into the yard. He crept forward, keeping his cover in the grass. He raised the slingshot, Deku seeds at the ready. The pheasant walked slowly with its back to him, unaware of him. The boy grinned and let the seed fly. His aim was perfect, he was sure. Unfortunately, his prey was startled at the last second by a shout from the house; his mother calling him inside for dinner. The pheasant scurried back into the grass and he growled in frustration, tossing his slingshot to the ground.

Big Brother placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll get it next time," he reassured him.

He just nodded, putting the toy in his pocket for safekeeping before rushing back into the yard and into the house for his dinner.

Later that night, he was crawling into bed in the room he shared with his infant brother. There was a knock at the door and his dad came in. He hopped out of bed excitedly.

"You should have seen it today, Dad! I almost got a pheasant!"

Naron laughed as he sat down on his son's bed. "I wish I could've seen that, would've been good for a laugh," he teased, ruffling his son's dark hair.

The boy stuck out his tongue and flopped into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. "Big Brother says I'll get 'em next time, though," he said confidently.

Rather than laugh, Naron's face turned serious. "Yes. Your mother told me about him."

"She did?"

Naron sighed, unsure of how to continue. He was sure Shaiya's worries were for naught. But he couldn't be too sure. He looked into his son's eyes. They were deep blue, like hers.

"You always listen to what Big Brother says?" he asked.

"Yup!"

"And he keeps you out of trouble?"

The boy snickered. "He's a goody-goody, Da."

Naron couldn't help but laugh at that. "All right. Well, how about you keep letting Big Brother keep you out of trouble, and I'll take care of your mom, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, yawning.

"Good lad." Naron bent over to kiss his son's forehead before rising and blowing out the lantern next to his bed. The youngster quickly burrowed into the warmth of the blankets, falling asleep quickly.

Naron stopped next to the crib. The baby was sleeping peacefully. Naron reached down to tuck a stray strand of blonde hair away from his eyes when he felt slim arms wrap around his waist from behind.

He smiled. "You're so quiet," he whispered.

"Mmm," Shaiya murmured, burying her face in his back. "Come to bed."

Naron twisted in her arms, pulling her close. "Can't say no to that," he teased, stroking a hand lightly along her hip.

She smiled at him in the darkness, taking his hand and leading him out of their sons' room. They lay down in their own bed, content just to lie in each other's arms. Shaiya fell asleep within minutes, exhausted from the day's work. Naron found himself listening to her slow breathing, observing the moon outside their open window. It was unusually bright tonight. The light coming in kept him half-awake, and he slept fitfully.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he woke again. Sitting up in bed, he noted a flash of orange in the window. Frowning, he rose carefully from the bed, walking over to investigate. It couldn't be morning already, could it? As he peered out the glass, fear and alarm clutched him.

Tellura was in flames. Fire had overtaken the first cluster of houses in the distance, eating its menacing way up the village's only main street. There were shadows moving in the street already; he narrowed his eyes with a flash of suspicion. Every figure in the road was mounted, and tiny flickers of silver told him they were armed.

Confirming his fears, innocent villagers began to flee into the street, escaping their burning homes. Naron could only watch, helpless and horrified, as the dark riders cut them down without mercy, leaving their bodies in the streets. The leader, identifiable as the one astride the monstrous black stallion, turned his mount's head towards the house across the river: Naron's home.

Reacting from pure instinct, Naron turned, knelt and groped under the bed. Sword in hand, he roused his wife none too gently.

"Naron? What's happening?" Shaiya asked sleepily as her husband pulled her from the bed.

"Get the boys," he urged her. "And leave the house. Now."

"What's happened?" she repeated, all business as she led the way into the other bedroom.

"The village is under attack," he replied quietly as she gently scooped up the infant. He stirred in her arms, but didn't wake up or cry.

The other boy had lifted his head and was rubbing his bleary eyes. "Mama?" he asked, curious.

"Come with me, sweetheart," she told him, striding to him and grasping his small hand.

He frowned in confusion, but didn't say anything, following his parents to the first level of the house. Naron glanced out the kitchen window, cursing softly. He turned to his wife.

"Take the back door," he instructed her, helping her to wrap her shawl around her shoulders as well as the bundle in her arms. He stooped to help her with her shoes, ensuring his young son was also getting his coat and boots on. "Head for the forest, it might not be safe in Kakariko."

"What about you?" she asked, her face giving away her fear for his safety.

He smiled reassuringly. "I'll be right behind you." Leaning close, he placed a tender kiss to her lips. "As soon as you can, ride for the castle."

Naron had just started to usher his family out the door when there was a loud crash from the other room. The intruders were trying to break their front door and enter the house. "GO!" he shouted, pushing Shaiya out the kitchen door.

Hesitating only a second, she grabbed her boy's hand again and tugged him outside. It was a chilly night, and her breath came in white puffs in front of her. Cold stalks already wet with dew whipped across her legs as she went, pulling her children with her.

At last she reached the low-ceilinged stable, and felt in the darkness for the latch. Hands fumbling, she unbolted and opened the heavy door, rushing inside. It was drier here, and warmer; it gave the illusion of being a safe place; but she knew they were coming.

The dark-haired boy waited patiently, holding back his anxiety and curiosity, as his mother saddled their horse. Fear was plain on her face. There were awful shouts and cries coming from the house, making him increasingly nervous. When he asked where his father was, his mother didn't answer. Whenever he was brave enough to look outside, all he saw were shadows and flashes of fire and confusion.

"Come here, sweetheart."

He withdrew from the window, scared for his missing parent. "I'm going to go help Da," he announced, and darted for the outside before his mother could reach him.

"No! Come back!" she cried, giving chase but slowed by the infant in her arms.

Stepping out of the cover of the stable, she began to panic when she could not find her son in the darkness. Her calls for him went unheeded, and Naron had not emerged from the house.

An arrow whizzed by her, striking the wood of the door. She gasped, ducking and covering her baby with her body. She had drawn attention to herself by shouting, and now tried to stay quiet. The strangers could be heard calling to one another, looking for their prey.

Torn between searching for her child and getting herself and the baby away from danger, she crept back into the stable. Mounting the saddled horse, she tied her bundle securely to her chest, shielding it with one arm. She kicked the horse hard; sensing the urgency, the horse charged from the building.

Immediately, a volley of arrows assaulted her. Shaiya shrieked, leaning low over the horse's neck. The mare reared and neighed ferociously, primal fear steering her towards the nearest cover: the forest. As Shaiya fled the village, a stray arrow found its mark, embedding itself deep in her shoulder.

A sharp cry of pain escaped her, but she gripped the reins and the baby tighter, urging her horse into a desperate gallop.

**~oOo~**

"Da! Where are you!?" his thin voice wavered, on the verge of tears. His father was nowhere to be found, but the horrible sounds could still be heard in the house. He came in through the back door, finding the house seemingly empty.

Sneaking around to the kitchen, he discovered his father where he had left him. The kitchen door had been barricaded, and his father stood rigid, a sword in his big hands. "Da!" he said excitedly.

His father whirled, his eyes showing white all around. "Get back!" he shouted at his son. "Go with your mother!"

Frightened, the boy retreated, hiding around the corner as the kitchen door gave way with a groan, the wooden barricade splintering into matchsticks. Too afraid to look, he covered his eyes, huddling in the hall off the kitchen. He could hear his father shouting as he fought off whoever had broken into their house.

His plan was to run upstairs for his slingshot was dashed when he heard his father let out a shout of pain. There was a loud thump, reminding him of a squirrel falling from his perch, stunned by the slingshot's projectiles. Only a squirrel's small body made barely a sound, and they broke out of their daze quickly.

Whoever had fallen hadn't yet gotten back up. From his limited vantage point around the corner, he could see his father lying on the ground, the front of his shirt splashed with red. His father's arms were lying slack next to his sides, and he seemed very tired, as if they'd been playing a game and he'd collapsed with exhaustion. But usually it was a trick; whenever he went over to see if his dad was okay, he was immediately grabbed and tickled. His dad would laugh and told him that he fell for it yet again.

"Dad?" he whispered, starting to crawl closer, thinking he was playing pretend.

From the corner of his eyes, Naron spotted him. Very slowly, he shook his head, raising his hand ever so slightly. Something in Naron's eyes told the boy to stay hidden.

A cold voice sounded from somewhere he couldn't see. "It's over."

That's when he saw him. A dark giant was standing over his beloved father. His clothes were black, his skin was deeply tanned, even his weapon—the largest sword he had ever seen—was dark in colour. The sight of the stranger made him shrink away in terror; he was dangerous. The man knelt in front of his father, pulling a silver object from his belt.

His father said, low but clear, "Close your eyes."

His parent's voice didn't shake, as his did, but he heard the unknown emotion in it. Trembling, he did as his father had asked, covering his eyes with his palms. There was a low chuckle from the dark man, and then a sickening squelching sound. Naron gasped and then groaned in pain, his teeth grinding together. Something clattered to the kitchen floor, and then heavy, booted footsteps told him the stranger was coming towards him.

He kept his face covered, cowering helplessly in the hall. Several moments passed where he simply sat, the stranger breathing heavily over him. The boy didn't breathe at all. Without warning, the man departed, his footsteps fading until there was no sound at all.

Terrified, the boy lifted his hands away. The hallway was dark and empty. The entire house had gone quiet, as if it held its breath as he did. There was a cough and a sputter from the kitchen; he scrambled into the room to his father's side.

Naron laid slumped against the wall, his shirt more red than white. His large hand covered a spot on his chest, shielding the sight of the fatal wound. His eyes were glassy, but they focused intently on his son's face.

He climbed into his father's lap, looking up earnestly into the familiar, loving face. "Dad?" he said again, very worried that he wasn't really playing.

A shaking hand rose and stroked the dark hair gently. He rasped, squeezing his son's shoulder faintly, "My…son." The hand pulled the small dark head close.

Despite the blood covering his father's chest, he laid his head on his shoulder, huddling close to him. His father drew in his next breath sharply; his ribs shook and jolted the child. But the exhalation didn't come; it was merely a release of air. The hand stroking the boy's hair relaxed and fell away. When he looked up, his father's eyes were closed. A sob finally escaped his small body as he buried his face in the limp shoulder.

His hero was gone now, and he was alone.


	4. Chapter 2: The Ancient Forest

The Great Deku tree stood at the place where the deity Farore had first touched the world. All life in Hyrule had grown from and been sustained by his roots, buried deep in the rich earth. As the guardian of the ancient world, every forest-dweller was under his protection and care. The many beasts and creatures, the fairies and the lost ones were all his children.

Their peaceful and solitary way of life had been undisturbed for some time. But the old spirit within the great tree had sensed the seeds of evil leeching their poison into the earth long before anyone else. It was only a matter of time before its first shoot sprung free and flourished in the world.

But tonight another seed had drawn his attention. From deep in the forest, the wails of an infant reached him, afraid and alone. The Deku tree reached out its roots, searching for the lost baby. There was blood around him; the baby's mother, unconscious at his side, was wounded. Gently, the Deku tree cocooned mother and child in its sturdy roots, bringing them from the edges of his domain to the heart.

The mother was very weak; the child continued to cry.

"Saria," the tree called, studying the infant. His eyes were wide and fearful, their irises striking blue.

A young girl came into the grove, walking slowly to the great tree's wide base. She knelt next to the mother, carefully examining the puncture left by the arrow. "There is nothing I can do," she said softly, grief lacing her tone.

The Great Deku tree looked down at the baby. "This is no ordinary child, Saria."

Curious, the girl switched her focus to the bundle next to the unconscious Hylian woman. "He will make it," she announced, leaning over to sweep the infant into her arms. His cries quieted as she rocked him, and she smiled down at the fair face.

The mother stirred, reaching instinctively for her son. "Link," she murmured. Her eyes opened wide when her hands found nothing, and she sat up abruptly. The movement caused her considerable pain, and she would have collapsed had not the tree caught her with its roots, cradling her. Shaiya's eyes fell on Saria, and her son, safe in her arms. "Link," she said again.

Saria handed the baby to her, letting the mother hold her son. She brought the bundle against her chest, whispering endearments in Hylian and pressing a kiss to his fuzzy head.

Strength was abandoning her, and she allowed the forest girl to take the baby. "Please," Shaiya said to Saria, "Keep him safe."

The girl nodded, placing her small, child's hand on the mother's. "He is safe here."

She smiled lightly, satisfied that her last act had been successful. Her son would be safe. Saria looked down at the boy, giggling as he swiped a hand towards her, distracted by a lock of her long emerald hair. "Aren't you cute?" she said, tickling his cheek.

He giggled, squirming in her arms. She laughed, looking up to say something more to the Hylian mother. She lay limp in the twisted, gnarled roots cradling her body. Her left hand lay across her belly, her other hanging loosely. The blue eyes had closed, the fair hair fallen loose and free.

She resembled a sleeping fairy, her pale face still flushed with the life that would soon leave her body. Her shoulder no longer bled, the stain covered by her hair. The roots curved upward, closing over her. Through the cracks, Saria saw white light surround her; the girl held the baby close, whispering a soft prayer in an ancient language.

After a moment, the beautiful white light vanished, leaving behind a small glowing orb. From the newborn fairy, tiny, translucent wings unfolded, tinged with gold. It floated inside the tree root cocoon, pulsing with new life. Receding, the roots returned to their place, letting the small fairy free. She flew towards the sky, the Great Deku tree and Saria looking on, and disappeared in the light of the coming dawn.


	5. Chapter 3: The Nightmare

_Rain fell from the sky. So heavy and dense that sight was near impossible. The only improvement was the occasional flash of lightning which illuminated the white stone gate, the sturdy wooden bridge closed tightly, impenetrable. Directly above it, the image of the Royal crest had been expertly carved into the stone; its raised surface cast slight shadows each time the lightning light struck it._

_The rapid pitter-patter sound of heavy raindrops crashing into the moat harmonized with the grumble of thunder. This was soon interrupted by a new sound; a rattling, metallic shake as the chains securing the drawbridge gave way. The bridge lowered quickly, slamming into place over the moat. From the dark corridor on the other side, a pinprick of white was visible, growing larger by the second._

_Hooves clattered on cobblestone, a horse's neigh echoed down the street; the next second, the pure white horse was galloping past him. He leaped aside, raising his head in time to see the rider's face. A young girl stared back at him. Her head was covered, but strands of wet hair had stuck to her white, wide-eyed face. She was obviously scared; her blue eyes stayed glued to him, and she called his name as the distance between them grew._

_Wanting to chase after her, he found himself rooted to the spot. He watched as the white horse faded from view. From behind him, a horse snorted. Startled, he spun around, feeling the familiar sense of foreboding creep up his spine._

_The black stallion stood there, just behind his shoulder, pawing the ground in irritation. Ignoring his commands, his head rose to meet the new rider's eyes. He tried to look away, to move, to run, but as usual, he was helpless to change what happened next. The man on the stallion was a giant cloaked in black. The hands gripping the reins looked as though they could crush a man's skull, and though his features were shadowed, his eyes were visible. They glowed red as a demon's, without pupils._

_The rider never spoke, never moved other than to raise one arm. Palm open, the man pointed it in his direction. Once again, he could only watch as the static light swirled in the man's palm, forming into a dark ball of energy. Laughing, the man on the horse released it._

_A terrible scream tore from his as the magic struck him, knocking him to the ground. It electrified his body, causing all his limbs to lock as he jolted helplessly on the cold, wet ground. The sparking, acute pain soon turned to burning fire, eating him from the inside out. He screamed anew, unable to escape the pain and the horrible mocking laughter._

It was the screaming that woke him. Wakefulness crashed into him like a soothing wave, freeing him from the seemingly inescapable clutches of the nightmare.

Azure blue eyes opened and focused on the carved wooden surface above the bed. Simple but cozy, the treehouse had been constructed of the hollowed-out remains of a Deku tree for his arrival in the forest. It contained little more than the wooden box bed, the necessities and his few childhood possessions. Nonetheless, it was home: warm in the bitter, grey winters and cool in the humid summer.

Crawling out of bed, his bare feet stepped onto the floor, smoothed to a fine polish from the wear of small feet. The doorless entrance was a glimpse of the pleasantly warm, dark night. Beckoning him, the hushed forest sounds greeted him when he stepped onto the small balcony.

All his memories began here, in this lush green haven nestled in the southeast corner of the world. It had never occurred to him to question that he belonged here, that Kokiri forest was his home, and always had been. He glanced up at the jagged slice of sky visible beyond the tallest trees.

Even so, he'd often wondered if he'd truly been born to the forest, as the other Kokiri had. He had heard the story many times, but had never felt the resonance and sense of shared history the other children did. Though he loved the forest, he couldn't help feeling the outsider due to his apparent differences. Mido's unabashed dislike and the feeling of marginalism that came from not having a fairy were the other reasons: the only blemishes of an idyllic childhood.

The unofficial "leader" of the group, Mido had taken joy from bullying him for as long as he could remember. Through the years it had been the same: every year a fairy guardian had failed to come to him. Every year, Mido mocked him for his shame; taunting him by saying he didn't deserve a fairy because he wasn't a "true" Kokiri.

Sighing, he turned away from the sky and his internal doubts. A patch of moonlight cut across the path back to his bed, blotted by his shadow. He stood aside, letting the natural light shine in without hindrance. He wondered how the moon saw him; he often thought of it as the great eye of the sky.

He envied it for that, how the moon must be able to see everything. Night after night, it was allowed to gaze upon the face of the world. Kokiri forest was safe, but it was limited.

The desire to experience what lay beyond the boundary was fueled by his feeling of being an outsider, but also by another nagging thought: the idea that he was meant to leave.

Sliding back into bed, he burrowed under the light covering, peeking out at the splash of moonlight on the smooth floor. Now that the nightmare was over, it wouldn't return—at least not this night.

When he drifted back to sleep, he dreamed he was walking along a forest path, the trees thinning and falling behind him, the moon lighting the path.

**~oOo~**

_She dreamed of storm clouds that blotted out the moon, and all other sources of light. She stood on a grassy hill, the wind whipping her dress about her legs as sh__e stumbled forward. Despite her efforts, she made no progress, and the oppressive black clouds continued to unfurl from the skies._

_To her shock, the billowing black mass began to eat at the land, once it was finished consuming the sky. The storm clouds rolled over the plain, rapidly approaching the hill she seemed to be stuck on._

_She turned to run as the vaporous black wall drew closer, but her feet became heavier with each step. Eventually she tripped, the grass rushing up to meet her. Flipping around, she stared wide-eyed at the impenetrable darkness bearing down on her._

_A streak of green light sliced across her vision from the right, cutting straight through the ominous storm clouds. Turning her head, she saw the shadowy mass of the forest, the topmost boughs of its trees swaying violently in the extreme storm winds. At its mouth, a figure was visible, the source of green light. The figure appeared to be holding it in their hands; as the clouds fled the blinding light, the figure became clearer. _

_It was a young boy dressed in green, and in his hand was a green stone, glowing brightly as it chased away the darkness. The light shone steadily brighter, until it became blinding. She turned her face away, shielding her eyes._

Princess Zelda V of Hyrule opened her eyes. Hastily, she sat up in the stately bed, forcing the heavy coverings back. Shivering from the cold and the nightmare, the young princess hopped down from the bed and scurried to the large arched window. It had been left open; a freezing wind rushed in, though it was the middle of summer. She slammed it shut, locking it securely so the cold couldn't seep in.

Pressing her pale face to the glass, her eyes raised towards the night sky, searching for any trace of the storm clouds she had seen in her dream. Whether these represented a physical incoming storm or a metaphorical darkness that threatened to come over the kingdom, she was not yet sure. Certain that the night was safe and quiet, she sighed and slid onto the window seat.

All her life she had been plagued by these dreams, these foreboding visions. Her attendant was convinced they were actually prophetic visions—that Zelda had been blessed with the gift of her predecessors. Whether her nightmare was a vision of events to come or a simple childhood nightmare, it did not matter—it was unsettling.

Afraid, she had told her father, the King, of her dreams. In vain she had tried to convince him of their truth, but he had shrugged off her concerns. Her loyal attendant was the only one to believe her when she spoke of the feelings that consumed her after waking: the fear, the unnatural cold and the sense that her safety, and that of all of Hyrule, was somehow threatened.

Calm at last, she rose from the window seat and returned to the bed. Closing her eyes, she conjured the image of the shining green stone in her mind's eye, and the small figure who held it. It was a small comfort, but it brought her a sense of peace, and allowed her to sleep without dreaming.

**~oOo~**

Meditation was a poor substitute for sleep. But he could not rest. Even allowing his eyes to shut took great effort. He'd lashed himself for his weakness, of course. Of all the things to fear in the world, a bad dream was the most irrational.

_Fool_, he chided himself. _It is but a dream; a mental obstacle easily overcome_. Though his body remained rigid with practice and dedication, his mind refused to quiet, and at long last he abandoned his attempt at meditation.

Opening his eyes, he ignored the slight relief he felt at seeing the torches flickering in the four corners of the room. The shadows of their flames danced across the sandstone walls, giving off warmth and security. Disentangling from the meditative position, he stood and stepped off the rug, stretching his cramped limbs.

His eyes had blinked close for only a second, but when he opened them a sharp flash of blue greeted him. Startled, he reached for the only weapon allowed in the meditation chamber—a ceremonial dagger tied to his hip. His fingers clenched the finely carved handle before he realized what he had seen was not real.

The cold blue color was not present. His stiff fingers released the dagger back into its sheath. _Fool_, he thought again. _The dead cannot harm you._

Meditation had its downsides, as it tended to unearth old memories he had long since buried. The memory of the lowly soldier with the deep blue eyes was one of them. He had killed the man with his own hands, and yet the ghost of Naron relentlessly haunted him.

_The prophecy cannot come to pass,_ he reminded himself, teeth clenched,_ when he has been dead these many years._

The physical relaxation granted by his meditation had withered. He rubbed his temples slowly, trying to ease the tension of his mind and spirit. It did little to help him, so he promptly extinguished the torches and exited the chamber, leaving his ghosts to dwell in the dark.


	6. Chapter 4: The Boy Without a Fairy

Chapter Four: The Boy Without a Fairy

_Hyrule Castle_

"Open the gate!"

The barked order stirred the soldiers patrolling the western wall to action. In a frenzy they took their positions; it required the strength of two men to operate the drawbridge pulley. With the usual clink and rattle, the chain came free, dropping the heavy wooden door with alarming speed. It fell into place with a dull thunk, allowing the visitors to pass.

"To your stations!" the lieutenant shouted, keeping the sentry guards moving.

The western wall was Hyrule Castle's secondary entrance, a way to bypass the hustle and bustle of Castle Town and head straight for the castle. Of course, it also required passing by a heavily guarded passage and the soldiers' barracks. The procession crossed the bridge without fanfare. A small group on horseback, they followed their path steadily up to the castle's second gate: the final obstacle before reaching the inside.

The leader of the group tightened his grip on the reins. He'd waited a long time to breach this castle's walls. He'd never anticipated these circumstances.

As he and his companions were granted access to the inner courtyard, he made sure not to miss a detail when he scanned the guards' posts, and every dark corner of the yard. He dismounted, his cloak swishing around his feet. The lieutenant from the western wall was already there, ready to greet them.

"Welcome to Hyrule Castle," he said, his tone stiff and formal.

It had been a decade since Hyrule's Unification War. Clearly, some people weren't ready to forgive.

Without returning the politeness, he strode past the lieutenant, his companions staying behind with the horses. The Hylian lieutenant followed close behind, his eyes burning holes into his cloak. He suppressed a smile.

Walking deliberately quickly, he made several wrong turns, forcing the solider to correct his path and lead him straight to his destination: the throne room. As the doors were pushed open by the guards standing outside, the solider accompanying loudly announced their hastened arrival.

"Your Majesty, your guest has arrived. Lord Ganondorf, leader of the Gerudo."

**~oOo~**

"Hey! Wake up!"

He groaned, trying to hide under the covers and ignore the voice telling him to get out of bed.

"Honestly, lazybones," it continued. "You don't want to miss it, do you?"

Link's eyes snapped open. He'd forgotten it was today! The voice laughed as he hurried to be free of his bed and pull on his shoes.

"Really, Link. I would've thought that today of all days you'd awake on time."

He laughed, looking up to meet Saria's exasperated expression. Arms crossed, she shook her head in disapproval.

"We're going to be late at this rate."

Link responded, "Not if we hurry," grabbing his hat from the floor where he'd left it and racing out the door.

Startled, Saria hurried after him, sliding down the treehouse ladder next to him. "Wait up!" she called.

The pair ran up the hill opposite Link's house and continued onto the dirt path, outpacing several of the Kokiri children on their way to the grove, laughing all the while.

When they reached the Great Deku Tree's clearing, they were among the first ones there. Eagerly, the pair took a seat in the grass next to a gigantic aboveground root. Above their heads, the topmost branches bristled as the tree roused itself from sleep. The Kokiris' guardian creaked like an old timer stretching his old bones, settling into place. Two large knots shifted beneath heavy, darker ridges of bark, serving as the great tree's eyes. A gnarled bump between the knot-eyes was the nose. As the rest of the forest children filtered into the clearing and sat on the ground before him, the Deku Tree smiled; his mouth a slash in the bark beneath his nose.

A chorus of voices met him as his protégées greeted him and chattered excitedly amongst themselves. This particular celebration came only once a year and was highly anticipated by all the forest residents. Unlike the Hylians, this was the Kokiris' lone holiday.

The Great Deku Tree cleared his throat—no easy feat for a tree, even a magical one—and the clearing fell silent. Even the various animals passing through stopped their chittering.

Saria nudged Link, shooting him a smile. Saria loved the Deku Tree's stories perhaps even more than Link. Saria's fairy companion hovered next to her shoulder, resting there lightly to listen to the guardian tree's story. All around them, the other Kokiri children had offered their fairy friends a similar perch for the gathering. Link hugged his knees to his chest, his own shoulders conspicuously unoccupied.

"Welcome, children," the Deku Tree said, his voice booming even with its usual, gentle tone.

The Kokiri shifted excitedly, looking forward to the story. Every year, their guardian told them the story of the Kokiris' origins and their relationship to the fairies. Afterwards, he delighted them with tales of the outside world: how it came to be created by the goddesses and the like. Of course, these were accompanied with warnings about the dangers of that world.

As his guardian began the by now familiar tale—a story of fairies, the beginning of the forest, and the first Kokiri—Link found his mind started to drift away. Much as he loved the Deku Tree's stories, this one had lost its allure over the years.

Increasingly, he was drawn to the occasional account he told of the world outside the shelter of the forest. In recent months, his curiosity had grown until it bordered on obsession. He had mentioned it to Saria once or twice, but his questions about the world outside hadn't been met with enthusiasm. Saria was relatively ignorant; like all Kokiri, she had never had any desire to leave the forest.

He hadn't told her of his nightmares, or asked her what the white structure might be. Sneaking a peek at her profile, he wasn't surprised to see her already enraptured by the story. Meanwhile, his own mind had already wandered. He felt a bit of guilt about it, but he felt sure if he told her of his desire to see outside, she wouldn't be supportive.

**~oOo~**

Princess Zelda V was in a state of anxiousness. The crown princess of Hyrule was often upset lately. Much to the chagrin of her personal attendant, Impa, who hated seeing her protegee so unhappy.

It might be traitorous of her to think so, but the attendant knew exactly where to lay blame for the young princess's current distress. _A job well done, Your Majesty_, she thought cynically, watching as her king once again dismissed the concerns of his only daughter as childish fancy. Ten years old the princess might, but Impa could attest that she was wise beyond her years. Her worries should be taken seriously.

Unwilling to watch her young charge's heart be broken again by her father, Impa looked aside under the pretense of scanning the room for intruders. Not that there were any. Hyrule Castle was virtually a fortress.

"Father, please!" Zelda was saying, trying in vain to regain her father's attention.

"Zelda," he scolded, focused on the attendant at his arm. He shifted on his throne, upset at seeing his daughter's tears as her fears were ignored. He pasted on a stern look; this was for her own good. "My dear, these…dreams of yours are nothing. They will pass. Now, you mustn't bother me, child. I have important business to attend to. Why don't you go play in the courtyard?" He flapped a hand dismissively.

Crushed, Zelda bit her lip, stopping any further tears. With a princess-like composure, she bowed formally, excusing herself with an abrupt spin of her heel. She held her head aloft as she had been taught, steeling herself against the sympathetic gazes of the soldiers stationed in the throne room.

"Impa," she said, reaching her attendant's side.

"Milady," she answered formally, shooting the nearest soldier a look of ice. He tried in vain to make his face disappear inside his helmet.

Their departure was interrupted when a herald whipped into the room, blocking the exit as he loudly announced that the king had another visitor. Looking irritated, but resigned, the king gestured impatiently. Satisfied, the herald flung the door wide, allowing a steely Impa and the young princess to pass.

The girl froze when the herald's next words revealed the identity of the guest.

"Lord Ganondorf, leader of the Gerudo!"

The princess gasped, drawing back into the protection of Impa's shadow. A giant of a man was framed in the doorway. Not even a mouse could slip past his boot without notice, his bulk took up so much space in the entrance. Zelda had never seen a Gerudo before, but she had heard stories. Particularly of this man. Several of the soldiers visibly tensed at the sight of him. Others could barely contain their shaking.

For a brief moment, the huge Gerudo man noticed her, and their gazes met. His lips curved in what Zelda supposed was meant to be a polite smile, but to her just seemed like a threat.

"Princess Zelda," he said, louder than necessary, bowing theatrically to the young girl. "A true honour to meet you."

His words were pleasant, but his voice was the like the menacing growl of thunder. He raised his head as he straightened from the bow, his tawny eyes boring into her wide blue ones. Princess Zelda looked into Lord Ganondorf's eyes and saw nothing but darkness.

In that singular moment, the crown princess knew in her heart that this man before her was the subject of her nightmares. He was the storm that was swathing its way towards Hyrule.

When he straightened to his full, impressive height, he noticed Impa standing next to Zelda, a protective hand on the princess's shoulder. Ganondorf's eyes glittered.

"_I see the Sheikah still serve their traitorous masters_," he remarked in the Sheikah language.

Impa didn't gratify him with a response.

"_As the last of your kind_," he continued with a cruel smile, "_I'm sure we Gerudo could offer you a place among us_."

The look of unadulterated hatred on the Sheikah woman's face made his skin crawl and itch. He chuckled, somehow managing to make the sound seem sinister.

"I'm afraid I must decline," was Impa's clipped reply. "Excuse us, Lord Ganondorf."

She ushered the princess out the door, drawing it closed behind them before the herald could. As the heavy double doors of the throne room swung shut, Zelda watched as her father rose to greet the Gerudo thief. The man cast a shadow across her father's form, even as he kneeled down to pay his respects. She couldn't help the shiver that passed through her as the darkness crossed over the king's face.


	7. Chapter 5: The Orphanage

Chapter 5: The Orphanage

Castle Town had been Hyrule's quaint, bustling capital for generations. It had long ago surpassed the size of a town and become a fully-fledged city. In terms of size and population, it had grown slowly but steadily like a mighty oak tree. It was crowded, but sturdy and sustaining.

Ever since the Unification War, however, the sudden influx of refugees and newly parentless children had caused a problem. Accommodation had been the biggest concern, rapidly fixed with the addition of the West Quarter. The orphanages, however, had simply stretched their resources to the limit to house the increase in children whose parents had perished in the war.

All of Castle Town's dozen or so homes for children were owned by noble families. It wasn't a terribly lucrative business; most had been bought by kind-hearted nobles wishing to aid the less fortunate, and kept in the family through inheritance.

There was no doubt that the current holder of the Palardine family fortune had no interest in his orphanage. Money was automatically sent every month, yet the budget hadn't been increased since before the war. As it was, the Palardine Home for Orphans was badly in need of funds and in even worse need of staff—their numbers had become unmanageable.

The most unmanageable of their occupants happened to be a young boy, age thirteen, with jet black hair and crystal blue eyes. Like many others, his parents had died in the war, and he'd been one of many dropped on the doorstep of the Palardine family orphanage.

Dark lay on top of the peaked roof of the orphanage. His favourite spot. Both for avoiding detection and for the pleasant view it offered of the bustling and bright capital. It was mid-spring, which meant the showers had started. The shingles were a tad damp, but he could care less. He blew an irritating lock of dark hair out of his eyes, watching the progress of passers-by as they moved through the streets below his dangling feet.

"Dark!"

He started. The shrill voice of the orphanage's headmistress, Mrs. Crowe, never failed to leave his eardrums ringing.

"Where are you?" she screeched irritably. "Dark!"

The boy resolutely ignored her. Knowing if he stayed out of sight until dinnertime, she would save her punishment until after the meal. Not that he deserved to be punished. Once again, Mrs. Crowe found it easier to make him the home's scapegoat than actually dispense justice and seek out the real perpetrator.

Still, he found it difficult not to antagonize her. Leaning close to the edge of the roof, he slid on his belly until he could see her bony fingers readjusting her tight gray bun. Her back was to him—perfect. With a grin, he raised a hand to his mouth. He let out a series of shrill birdcalls, making sure they reached her directly.

Mrs. Crowe let out a yelp of fear. She hated birds. Dark's barely suppressed laughter followed in her wake as the headmistress darted back inside in fear.

"She won't bother me now," he muttered to himself.

**~oOo~**

Walking back to the Kokiri village after their spring storytelling festival, Saria and Link stopped next to the pond. The Kokiri girl kneeled gracefully to scoop a quick sip of the tasty spring water. Link was looking off into the distance, his mind elsewhere. Saria wondered what could be troubling her friend.

"Everything okay, Link?" she asked tentatively. He could be hesitant when talking about his feelings.

His head jerked in her direction, as if she'd drawn him from a deep thought. "Hm? No, not at all."

Despite his denial, Saria deduced the reason behind his behaviour. "This is about your fairy, isn't it?"

The expression on his face confirmed her guess. During the Kokiris' spring celebration, it was customary for new Kokiri to receive their fairy guardian, as well as the traditional storytelling. This year, the Deku Tree had decided to honour the youngest Know-It-All brother with his fairy companion. It had pained her to see the bitter disappointment on Link's face, and then the loneliness when the other Kokiri had rushed to congratulate the other boy on his achievement.

Saria placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "Your time will come, Link. I promise." She tried to say the words with sincerity, but deep down she worried about how many more years would pass before the promise was kept.

The others had begun to talk about Link's peculiar situation. At ten years of age, it was long past the time he should have been gifted with a fairy. It was concerning, to be sure. But what worried Saria more was the reality that within a few years Link would no longer be a child.

As a Hylian, he was destined to age to adulthood, rather than enjoy an endless childhood, as she did. She had hoped for many years that the powerful magic of the ancient forest would change him from a Hylian to a Kokiri, or that the Deku Tree would see fit to grant him a fairy guardian.

She dreaded the idea of admitting to Link that the reason he didn't have a fairy might be because he was not a true Kokiri, as he feared. She dreaded even more the idea that Link might be forced to the leave the forest.

"I know," he said, not sounding very confident in his hope.

Saria opened her mouth to offer more positive encouragement, but a mocking voice cut across their conversation.

"Hey! Mr. No-fairy!"

Link frowned, turning to face the self-named boss of the Kokiri children. "Mido," he growled at the other boy.

"Leave us alone, Mido," Saria insisted, shooting him a scathing look. Now was not the time for Mido's antics.

Mido ignored her, circling around Link. "Still no fairy this year, huh? I knew you weren't a real Kokiri." Mido's mocking chuckle was echoed by his cronies.

"I _am_ a real Kokiri!" Link insisted.

"Then why don't you have a fairy? Why do none of us feel like you _belong_ here?" Mido taunted, freckles crinkling on his boyish cheeks as he grinned nastily.

"He does belong here," Saria replied, jumping to her friend's aid. "The Great Deku Tree wouldn't let him stay here if he didn't."

Mido rolled his eyes theatrically, crossing thin arms across his chest. "I don't care what the Deku Tree says." He leaned down into Link's face. "You'll _never_ be one of us."

Without thinking, Link pounced. He knocked the larger boy to the ground, much to his opponent's surprise. Wrestling for the upper hand, Mido's buddies began to jeer in support of their boss. Several other Kokiri noticed the commotion and came to watch.

Saria rolled her eyes, leaning down to forcibly separate the two. She may not be as big and tough as Mido, but she was the oldest Kokiri child, and the others trusted her.

"That's enough!" she scolded, pulling Mido by the collar.

"Lemme go!" he protested.

"Not until you both behave!"

Disgruntled, Link brushed himself off and sent Mido one last dirty look before stomping off towards his treehouse. Struggling to free himself from Saria, Mido called after him, "Wish all you want, Mr. No-fairy! But you're not one of us. You're just a freak!"

The words stung, but Link refused to turn around. He quickened his pace to a run, not stopping until he reached the base of his treehouse.

When Saria arrived a few minutes later, she kindly kept silent, choosing instead to sit beside him and watch him carve yet another image into the trunk of the treehouse.

"Do you think I'll ever get a fairy?" he asked eventually.

"Of course!" his friend replied optimistically.

"You can't know that for sure," Link pointed out.

Saria sighed. "Maybe not, but I know I can give you something Mido doesn't have."

Curious, Link watched her reach for the bundle she'd brought with her. It was a funny shape; obviously she'd wrapped some object within the cloth. She wrestled it free, presenting Link with a misshapen slab of wood.

He looked up at her. "A piece of wood?" he asked skeptically.

She laughed, turning it over. It was roughly carved wooden shield, emblazoned with the Kokiri symbol, painted red. Link's smile returned.

"A shield!? Thank you, Saria!"

The Kokiri girl shrugged. "I figured it might be useful. I have something else as well…I've been keeping it for a while."

Excited now, Link accepted her next gift with eyes closed. Something cool, smooth and metal was placed in his palms. His eyes opened and he laid his eyes on the child-sized sword Saria had presented him.

Link leaped up, wielding the child's weapon with glee. "I love it! Where did you find it?"

Saria giggled. "Mido won't be able to make fun of you now. Oh, I found it a long time ago in the forest…someone on the outside must have forgotten it there." She shrugged, unconcerned about the sword's origins.

Link masked his disappointment. He'd been hoping she would tell him more about those outside the forest. He smiled at her. "Thank you," he said again.

Saria looked on as Link took up sword and shield, practicing some basic techniques in front of the treehouse. It pleased her that she could help her friend, but she also felt a sense of foreboding.

Her eyes rose to the tops of the trees surrounding their home. The skies had been darker lately, the winds colder. Something outside the forest was disturbing the land. She shivered involuntarily. Her gaze returned to her friend, who had miss stepped and tumbled to the dirt. She smiled but couldn't quite manage her usual laugh.

Something was coming. And it would change everything.


End file.
